Trouble, Nothing But Trouble
by Atrox
Summary: This is basically a vignette. A ghoul is sent to do a small task. Told from the Ghoul's perspective.


Trouble, Nothing But Trouble 

Some people think they're Fate's gift to the world, and nothing can touch them.

Everyone usually starts out thinking that. But most people grow up and learn that it isn't so. Some, on the other hand, are slow learners. They're a problem, and it's my job to deal with problems.

The people I was to summon tonight were a case in point. As my Lord explained to me, there aren't many rules in this world, but those few might as well be carved in diamond. One was that if you came to a city, you had to announce yourself to the Prince. Some don't bother, so a gentle reminder is in order.

I wasn't in the mood for gentle reminders. The whole week hadn't been any fun so far. Work had been annoying. I'd had a spat with my lover. This job was just the icing on the cake. I walked past the waiting crowd into the Torch. Plenty of people glared at me. Who was I not to wait in line like the rest of the world? I wasn't even dressed fashionably. The baggy pants of my black BDUs were clearly visible under the long coat I wore. So were the combat boots.

The doorman glared, too, but unlike the crowd he knew who I was. He wouldn't dare to refuse me entry. He even held the door for me.

The Torch was its usual self. Death metal played just above the level of conversational speech. There were the usual strippers, both male and female, at strategic locations. New specimens, fine ones, too, but that was normal at the Torch. The crowd fit and yet didn't.

Some were the tragically hip, here for the music and the scene. The others were the see-and-be-seen crowd, here because the Torch was hip, and they wanted their names in the papers. Some politicos, all of them either for sale or already sold, some high-end whores, catering to the money and the power. Not many looked at me; none spared me a second glance.

That irked me. I'm fairly attractive, maybe too tall for most tastes at 180cm, but lean and honed to a finer edge than ever. My face has reminded more than one man of a cat, with large, slightly slanted grey eyes, high cheekbones and a pert, perfect nose I was born with. I move well, too, with what one acquaintance called a dancer's grace. It isn't, really, but how was the poor boy to know that? So the dark brown coat and the BDUs did nothing for me. So the armour inserts made my chest look flat. Big fucking deal. But what did I expect of Americans?

I scanned the crowd. The tip had come anonymously, as they usually do. The description had been fairly useless, but I knew most who lived here. One group stood out. There were five of them. Two were locals, but the other three I'd never seen before.

I watched them for a few minutes to make sure I didn't interrupt any hunting. After that, I was certain none of them were still breathing. They were having a great time, chatting and joking as if they didn't have a care in the world. It wouldn't be easy to get them to accept my Lord's invitation, less so as I couldn't afford any ruckus.

I was just starting to move towards them when they ambled towards the back. I walked faster, willing them to go into one of the private rooms. The Torch provided them for any variety of reasons, sex, drugs, feeding, what have you. I felt the smile creeping over my face when they did just that after leaving a wad of cash with one of the bouncers. When I reached the man, he was still counting. It was easily enough to cover a few hookers in addition to the room.

"You'll give us absolute privacy."

He hadn't heard me approach. The sound of my voice spun him around. He recognised me instantly.

"_Absolute_ privacy. Do you understand?"

He nodded once. Of course he understood. He didn't know how I related to this entire operation. He didn't know why he was supposed to give me whatever I asked, either, just that he was to do it. His boss had been very clear on that. Until I came out of that room, no one would enter. He'd check it with his boss, just to be on the safe side, but I knew what answer he'd receive. I kept looking at him until he got the idea that his presence was no longer required. When he'd turned away, I opened the door and walked in.

Five faces turned to me. Two pairs of eyes widened as they recognised me. The other three just grinned at what they seemed to think was the walk-in dinner they'd ordered. I didn't smile back. Rather, I let the coat flap open a little more.

"Hello, Shannon. Nice seeing you again," I addressed the female local. "Haven't met your friends yet, though. Care to introduce me?"

The three newbies looked at Shannon with some annoyance. It wasn't going as planned.

"Hello, Tatyana," Shannon replied with a slightly forced smile. "They're just passing through, no sweat."

I cocked an eyebrow. Shannon had been a slow learner in some respects herself. She and I had tangled before. She wasn't interested in another go.

"The Hell we are. And who're you, anyway?" The female of the trio snapped.

"Nox, don't get upset, I'll handle this," Shannon replied soothingly.

So she called herself _night_ in Latin? My, what a cool name. I wasn't impressed.

"If you're staying, you'd best look up His Highness. I have his number right here."

I held out the card. There was only a phone number on it, embossed in gold. By now, many locals had a card like this. I knew Shannon did. I'd seen her receive it from my Lord's hands. It was remotely possible that she'd lost it somehow. _Remotely_ possible. Nox walked up to me and took the card. Very slowly and deliberately she tore it into very tiny pieces.

"I don't give a shit about his prickness, ghoul. Get lost before-"

I admit I lost control for a second there. My loyalty to my Lord was absolute, and not just because of the Blood Bond. He had done a great many things to actually earn that loyalty, and hearing him insulted like that, on top of a shitty week was just too much.

So I hit her.

Hit her with all the power of an exquisitely trained martial artist whose strength had been enhanced by the Blood of an elder Kindred. Bones broke with an ugly sound as my fist impacted. The blow sent her flying against the far wall. It would have killed any mortal several times over. She struggled to rise, her jaw already healing, but slowly. Must have been a little short on blood.

Her friends looked shocked. Not many retainers could have done this much damage with just one punch. Not many retainers are put on a training regimen designed specifically to draw out their physical Disciplines. I had been.

"I am Tatyana de Beauvin, Woman-At-Arms to His Highness Jean de Richemonte, Prince of Chicago. You _will_ act with the respect he is due."

My voice was flat with rage, but I had a leash on it now. This was not the time to dismember anyone, if it could be helped. Nox finally managed to get up. There was murder in her eyes. I awaited her calmly. If an example needed to be made, she would serve. There was a reason I carried a MAG-7 shotgun. The Kindred took a step towards me. Shannon got between us.

"Don't do this, Nox."

"No fucking _ghoul_ hits me and lives!"

Urgency in Shannon's voice, bleak hatred in Nox's. It was no more than I had expected. If she came for me, I might have a bit of trouble, but I could handle a neonate. Especially a Clanless neonate. I had been trained for this. I'd done it before. And I'd enjoy the moment for all it would be worth, to give this arrogant bitch of a Kindred all the hatred I had accumulated while acting servile around the elders. Even so, I kept silent. My orders were to bring them before my Lord, not to kill them, unless that became necessary to prevent my death.

Nox pushed past her host and came for me in a headlong rush. _Street fighter_, I thought as I sidestepped and turned. My right hand drew the shotgun. The left cupped the back of her neck and propelled her headfirst into the wall. The impact snapped her neck like a twig. I jammed the muzzle of the MAG-7 into the back of her neck as she collapsed, holding her on her knees, and half-turned back to the other four Kindred.

They stood paralysed with disbelief. Retainers are generally thought inferior to Kindred, and with reason.

"Present yourself to the Prince within twenty-four hours, or I'll be back." I told them, voice still cold. "If I have to look you up again, I won't be as nice as I was just now."

Dropping the gun to Nox's midriff, I pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening, the effect brutal. The load of buckshot essentially tore a fist-sized hole through her body. She'd recover, but for a while it would _hurt_. I dropped the carcass, holstered the gun and left. Damn, but that had felt _good_. Sergey had been right. This assignment had been perfect for me just now. I felt a pang of longing thinking about him. My steps quickened as I remembered we'd both be off duty today. Smiling happily, I walked past the Kindred owner of the Torch, not even sparing him a glance, on my way home.

III


End file.
